


Blossoms Of Blood

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Pikmin (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Giant/Tiny, Not Canon Compliant, gentle giant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: A trip into a new region takes some terrifying turns when Olimar and Louie run into larger than life monsters, some friendlier than others.





	1. The Captain and the Hunter

The S.S. Dolphin II zipped towards a stone balcony, the Onion following close behind. Captain Olimar tumbled out upon landing, taking a deep breath and holding his head high. He had spotted this mysterious new region last night, filled with what appeared to be pointed buildings. He had dubbed this area the Spiraling Stonelands, and was ready to scout the area. Louie had refused to come along, which he hadn’t given too much thought to. He did seem pretty shaken up after their last trek in the Sinister Wilds, after all.

Olimar called thirty-five Pikmin out of the Onion. Leading them along twisting pathways, they encountered minimal threats besides a few bulborbs and flint beetles. A bit discouraged by the lack of treasure, he ventured into a pipe wide enough to walk through. Traveling downwards, Olimar and his Pikmin found themselves on what appeared to be a cobblestone street. The Hocotatian thought back to his planet’s history. Their streets hadn’t used stone for years once…

He was dragged out of his thoughts by a furious groan. Olimar snapped his attention to an absolutely massive creature. It was dressed in a clean long coat and hat while wielding a cane and lantern. By craning his neck he could spot a pale white face twisted into a hideous scowl.

The monster slammed it’s cane down, killing a few Pikmin on impact and knocking the rest back. Olimar whistled in an attempt to rally his Pikmin, but the being kept squashing them under it’s weapon. He whistled once more and retreated in the opposite direction, hearing more Pikmin being killed. As guilt welled up in Olimar’s stomach, he tripped and tumbled down a flight of stairs.

The space captain groaned and sat up. His head was pounding, he’d lost an entire squadron of Pikmin, and the venture had barely begun. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, a caw sounded from above. A fat crow towered over Olimar, rotting meat clinging to it’s beak. It lunged for him, only for dark red to obscure his vision a second later. Olimar grimaced as he wiped away the fluid and screamed.

The crow was dead, cleaved in half with it’s blood painting the stones. Standing before it was another giant, this one wearing different clothes and wielding what appeared to be a saw on a stick. It pulled the weapon from the bird’s corpse and flicked it’s wrist, shortening it. Olimar was frozen, too busy gaping at the gory scene to notice the giant kneeling down and reaching for him.

It was only when fingers wrapped around Olimar and thrust him into the air that he snapped out of his daze. A whimper slipped out as the giant tilted it’s head and sized him up. It pulled down the hide on it’s face and licked it’s thumb before rubbing it against his helmet. Olimar cried out and jerked away from it’s attempt at cleaning him off. Once the blood was gone, he was at least able to get a good look at the monster.

It appeared to be a male, wearing an overcoat and a feathered hat. It pulled the hide back over it’s nose and mouth, leaving it’s green eyes exposed. Olimar found himself wondering about this being’s anatomy. How could something so huge survive? Was the bird it’s prey? Maybe the hide was meant to keep all that blood off it’s face. If that was the case, were it’s clothes merely protective hide?

The giant carried him inside one of the buildings, where the smell of incense nearly overpowered him. The Hocotatian’s vision blurred as his head turned light. By the time he regained his bearings, the giant was kneeling before a lamp surrounded by pale, emaciated creatures. They gripped it’s hand, causing it to fade. A wave of drowsiness hit Olimar and realized he was fading too! Before he could fight back, the heaviness settled and his vision turned black.

Almost immediately he woke up. Olimar glanced around with wide eyes. They were in an illuminated garden filled with tombstones and more of the frail creatures. Standing on a small hill was an ornate house. The giant walked up the stairs past a woman in a delicate dress and bonnet. There was something…odd about her. The look in her eyes was soulless, yet caring. Once inside the house, the giant sat down and lowered it’s hand.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you like that, little one, but it’s far too dangerous for someone like you to be wandering around Yharnam.” It said, speaking softly as if it were trying not to frighten him. It finally placed him down on the wooden floor. As soon as the hand was retracted, Olimar bolted for one of the enormous tables.

Sliding under the table, he took cover behind a book. The captain curled up and held his head, tears welling up in his eyes. Stars above, he was going to die. This giant would gobble him up. Why else would it bring him to this strange realm? Already he could hear it closing in, likely moments away from snatching and eating him…

Damien flinched as the little creature sprinted and hid behind a book that had fallen underneath the table. How could something smaller than his index finger run so fast? He laid down on his stomach and peered under the table. The tiny person was cowering behind the book, though his red light gave him away.

“Come here, little one. There’s nowhere to run, and I don’t want Gehrman accidentally rolling over you.” He called. Damien tapped his fingers against the floorboards and clicked his tongue as if it would help. When the being peeked out from the book, he laid his hand palm-up on the floor. “It’s alright, you’re safe. I won’t hurt you.” He said.

Olimar tilted his head and gingerly stepped out into the open. The giant didn’t move, but was staring at him expectantly. Briefly glancing at it’s eyes, he found no traces of aggression or hunger. He walked closer, stopping in front of it’s hand. It didn’t move to grab him no matter how long he stood there. It couldn’t hurt to trust this giant, could it? He had saved his life after all. Gathering all his courage, Olimar climbed onto his palm.

The space captain swiftly got to work inspecting the giant’s attire. The gloves and coat were clearly made with leather, but there were also metal bits. If they had been manufactured, then just how intelligent were these giants? Why did this one look so different from the one that attacked him?

Damien slowly lifted his hand and curled his fingers. “You’re pretty cute.” He whispered to himself. The creature looked up at him and frowned. The hunter cupped his hands around him and held him to his chest. “Can you speak? Do you have a name?” he asked.

Olimar froze. The giant didn’t seem interested in crushing or eating him, but would it be wise to really communicate? What if his name could be used against him in some way, to keep him prisoner? The fact that he found him “cute” didn’t help, but it more or less confirmed that he wouldn’t end up as a snack. With little choice in the matter, he cleared his throat.

“Uh…I am Captain Olimar. I am an explorer hailing from planet Hocotate. And I…do you have to hold me like this?” Olimar asked. His captor’s eyes lit up, but remained absent of any malicious intent. The giant chuckled and adjusted his grip, still holding him close to his chest.

“Ah, sorry. Not only did you seem helpless, you’re one of the few things out there that hasn’t tried to kill me. And it’s always nice to have someone besides the Doll and Gehrman to talk to…” he was cut off by the Hocotation shrinking back and whimpering.

“I don’t understand! What are you? Where are we? Who’s Gehrman? Why is everything trying to kill you?!” Olimar cried. Damien sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, gently cradling Olimar in his other hand. He stood and walked to the back entrance of the Workshop.

“The name’s Damien. I’m a hunter of beasts and madmen,” Damien said, stepping outside and around a corner. “Gehrman is the first hunter, who now resides in this Hunter’s Dream.” He strolled into the back garden where Gehrman was fast asleep.

Olimar held tightly to Damien’s finger as he leaned forward. As expected, Gehrman was an old, wheelchair-bound man. His clothes were slightly ragged and he appeared frail, yet Olimar felt as though it would be unwise to underestimate him. As Damien turned away, he could’ve sworn he’d seen Gehrman crack open an eye.

“The little pale creatures are Messengers. They seek out hunters and revere them, and like to help out by delivering messages. They’re a bit creepy, but I can’t help but find them oddly adorable.” He continued, gesturing to a birdbath filled with them. A few more Messengers emerged from the dirt and tried to grab onto his trousers. Damien sat down next to a lantern and looked up at the woman from before.

“This is the Doll. She helps me grow stronger and cares for me whenever the hunt becomes too much.” The Doll glanced down and smiled warmly, reaching over to ruffle Damien’s hair and play with Olimar’s helmet light. He noticed her jointed fingers and stifled a shudder.

“I do have one more question. What are these beasts you claim to hunt?” he asked. The hunter took a deep breath and stood.

“They’re humans like myself who’ve been infected by the blood scourge and twisted into hideous, flesh-hungry monsters. And I’m not even getting into the angry mobs, blood-drunk hunters, rabid animals, and god knows what else…” Damien remarked as he walked towards a tombstone. The Messengers grasped his hand, causing them to fade once more.

They awoke within the building from before, the incense causing Olimar to become lightheaded again. Damien stepped out of the building and glanced around. “I’m going to have to tuck you away for a second. Just be still…” he said, lifting Olimar to his throat. Before he could protest, Olimar was stuffed between the hunter’s scarf and shirt collar.

Olimar wriggled about in an attempt to get comfortable. It was warm at least, and he could faintly hear the gentle whoosh of Damien’s breaths. He remained still as the hunter jogged up the stairs, yet couldn’t bite back his whimpers at the sounds of monsters being cut down. Flesh being sliced, gunshots, blood spattering on the stones, and dying groans let his imagination fill in the blanks.

Damien panted and wiped his brow, blood mixing with sweat. He could feel Olimar trembling and bit his lip. Before he could check in on him, he spotted some colorful sprouts on the ground. He knelt down and stared at them. They stared back. He felt a tickle against his neck as Olimar squirmed out from his scarf.

“Damien! Let me down this instant!” he shouted. Damien’s hand swiftly scooped him up and dropped him on the ground. Olimar whistled to his Pikmin, who instantly perked up and ran to his side. He couldn’t help but laugh as a purple affectionately bumped against his side. “For a while there I thought none of these Pikmin had survived the attack!” he exclaimed.

Damien tilted his head at the Pikmin. Seeing something so colorful in Yharnam was off-putting, but they seemed harmless. Perhaps they were to Olimar what the Messengers were to him. When he reached down, a few of them curiously surrounded his hand. A yellow let him carefully tickle it’s belly, while a blue gave a squeaky war cry and smacked it’s stem against his finger.

“Wherever you’re heading off to, stay safe, for both of our sakes,” He said. The hunter dug around in his pocket and placed down three shining coins. “Just a little gift to make up for the ordeal.” Damien smiled as the Pikmin immediately set to work carrying the coins into a large pipe.

Olimar could hardly believe it. Not only had he managed to befriend the largest creature he’d ever seen, he’d scored some treasure in the process! He craned his neck to beam at Damien. Past his staggering height and blood-soaked gear, he could see a glimmer of childlike wonder in the hunter’s eye. It almost reminded him of his son in a way.

“I hope I get to see you again.” Damien said, rising to his feet and walking back to the stairs. Olimar watched him depart before nodding to the remaining Pikmin and following the rest up the pipe. A content grin made it’s way up his face. He hoped to see the hunter again, too.


	2. A Fascinating Specimen

Earsplitting shrieks rang in Louie’s ears. In a few moments of terror, he thought the monster’s cries would shatter his helmet. A paw a hundred times the size of the S.S. Dolphin II slammed mere feet from him, reminding him that it wouldn’t need the cries to destroy him. Louie sped across the bridge as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Dread still pooled in the back of his mind, for it would take little effort for the monster to catch him.

Frantically whipping his head about, Louie spotted a break in the bridge wall. Deciding that risking a fall was better than being squished, he charged and leapt through the crack. He tumbled down a slope, landing far from the beast’s perch.

Shakily rising to his feet, Louie tapped his helmet, relieved to find there weren’t any cracks. It was only a small comfort, considering he was now stuck in unknown territory. Olimar was still up there somewhere, but he vaguely remembered the captain shouting about going to get help. He sighed and shook his head. May as well try and find his way back to the landing site.

Louie had to have been walking for hours, with no sign of Olimar or any Pikmin. He sniffled and rubbed his arms, the evening air nipping him through his space suit. He’d never find Olimar if he froze to death or was snatched by one of those beasts! As if the cosmos heard him, he found a wolf-like creature laying in his path. Louie’s heart pounded before he realized it was dead, a gash in it’s throat spilling copious amounts of blood onto the ground.

For a moment Louie considered gathering a sample of meat from the body. It was always exciting discovering new creatures and plants, imagining different ways to cook them and what sauces and spices they would go best with. Yet one whiff of the putrid blood was nearly enough to turn him into a vegetarian on the spot. He gagged and shuffled back, his eyes already starting to water.

Tentatively stepping around the beast’s head, he pulled out a camera. Perhaps taking a video entry would ease his nerves? It wasn’t his best option, but it was better than running or waiting around until something inevitably gave him a heart attack. Taking a deep breath as he set up the camera, he was oblivious to something far more terrifying approaching…

Father Gascoigne could do little more than stare at the scene that lay before him. No matter how many times he blinked, nothing changed. Yes, there was the chance he was going mad, but nothing like this had ever come of it.

There was a dead beast lying on the ground, which was far from unusual, and standing next to it’s head was a tiny person. All Gascoigne could make out was a glass bowl of some sort on his head with a bright blue light attached. In front of him was some camera-like device. He carefully knelt down, only to nearly jump back up when the person spoke.

“This is Louie, crew member of the S.S. Dolphin. I have yet to find Olimar, as this region is full of twisting paths,” Louie said to the camera. “Not only that, the place is teeming with these wolf-like creatures! A few of them are already dead, though Olimar has informed me not to attempt cooking any specimens of this sort. Then again, what doesn’t kill you makes you strong-!”

The Hocotatian yelped as he was yanked off the ground by his light. Louie found himself being dangled in front of a creature more than twice the size of those wolves. It almost resembled the giants from stories his grandmother sometimes read to him as a child. The monster gave a toothy grin and chuckled.

“That beast would certainly kill ya if it were alive. I wouldn’t recommend eating it, might cause nasty indigestion.” Gascoigne said. The creature was uselessly kicking his little legs and staring at him with bugged eyes. He was amazed he could even hear the thing speak! This surprise grew when he opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched scream.

Before the hunter could speak again, the poor thing fell silent and fainted.

“Dear Kos…” Gascoigne muttered, holding the little person in his palm. He’d said his name was Louie, right? He hoped he hadn’t accidentally killed him. The thought made the priest bite his lip and carefully press his fingertip to Louie’s chest. No response. He grunted and held him up to his ear, sighing upon hearing a faint heartbeat.

Louie gave a soft whimper as he came to. Strange, he’d just had a dream where he was about to be eaten by the biggest and ugliest monster he’d ever seen on the Pikmin planet! Wait…if it was a dream, why did it feel like he was being held and pressed against a warm pillow?

Gascoigne smiled and brought Louie away from his cheek. “So you’re finally awake. I didn’t mean to scare you like that, little one. It’s just not safe for someone the size of a coin to be wandering the city during the hunt.” He said, making sure not to bare his teeth.

Louie squirmed about in the giant’s firm, yet gentle grip. “Oh…please don’t eat me.” He begged. The giant chuckled again, and he could have sworn he’d seen a fang.

“I could, but I’d catch it from my wife if I spoiled my appetite,” Gascoigne said, slipping his tongue over his lips. His grin softened the moment Louie intensified his struggles. “I’m kidding, don’t worry. You’re safe here with me.” He gently ran his finger along his helmet. “The name’s Father Gascoigne, former church hunter.” He introduced.

“Uh…a hunter? That means you kill beasts like the dead one, right? You’re sure I can’t eat it?” Louie asked. Apparently this giant wasn’t just some dumb brute…hopefully. He wasn’t killing him, content to just converse. That was something, at least.

“Oh yes, these things would snap you up in a heartbeat! As for the eating, beasts are full of cursed blood. I don’t want to know what would happen if you ended up catching the beast plague.” Gascoigne replied. Cursed blood? Plague? Louie was suddenly very glad he hadn’t taken any experimental bites.

A high-pitched screech sounded in the distance. Father Gascoigne snarled in it’s direction, drawing a squeak from the Hocotatian in his hand. Louie was cowering in his hold, having gotten yet another glimpse of sharp teeth. Did he have this beast plague?! Gascoigne took a deep breath and glanced down. Although his eyes were covered by bandages, Louie could almost feel him sizing him up.

“Look, I’ll try to get you home, wherever that is. But I’m going to need both my hands free in case we run into anything nasty,” He said as gently as possible. Louie was unresponsive as he was tucked into the hunter’s scarf. “There we go, nice and cozy! You remember where your home is, right?”

Louie shifted and gripped the cloth surrounding him. “Well, I lost track of Olimar somewhere near the Spiraling Stonelands. It has a lot of tall, pointy towers and smells weird.” He said. Gascoigne raised an eyebrow.

“So, the Cathedral Ward.” He remarked. He silently prayed he hadn’t lost this Olimar on the Great Bridge. The last thing he wanted was to tangle with that damned Cleric Beast.

As Louie settled against Father Gascoigne’s collar, he took in the hunter’s sheer size. He could easily swallow him in a single gulp! He wouldn’t even need the teeth…no, best not to think about it. Watching the world pass by with a shake of each step, he craned his neck and cleared his throat.

“So, I was just wondering. Are you called Father because you have kids? It isn’t like that with Olimar.” He inquired. A deep chuckle sent a tremor through his body. Each action served to remind Louie just how delicate and insignificant he was compared to the hunter.

“Up for small talk, eh? Well, I do have two darling girls back home. They are just the sweetest children in Yharnam! But before I go off on a tangent, it’s a religious title from my homeland.” Gascoigne replied.

Louie nodded and nestled into the warmth of Gascoigne’s scarf. He didn’t have the foggiest idea what he was talking about, but it somehow made sense. He had so much to learn about this species! Did they taste good? Wait, no, they could be ill…

“Hey, Gascoigne…thanks for not crushing or eating me.” He said. He nestled into the warmth of the church hunter’s scarf as if it would defend him from any beasts. As Louie made himself comfortable, he watched one of Gascoigne’s fingers reach over and lightly pat his helmet.

“Anytime, Louie. Anytime.” He whispered, walking off into the cursed city.


	3. Clerics and Reunions

It hadn’t taken long for Damien to become used to the small warmth against his neck. That isn’t to say he wasn’t paranoid about his tiny new companion. What would happen if he died, leaving Olimar to the mercy of some fiend? What if he was accidentally killed during a skirmish? Could Olimar’s slight fear of him grow until he saw him as a monster?

“Uh…Damien? You feeling alright?” the Captain asked. It wasn’t uncommon for his enormous acquaintance to fall silent, not wanting to alert nearby foes, but this quiet was uneasy. Damien paused and shifted his head, an indication that he was listening. After a few moments of uncomfortable stillness, he chuckled and continued onward.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’m just thinking a bit too hard.” He said. The hunter sat down on a nearby bench before fishing around in his scarf. Feeling Olimar grab onto his thumb, he carefully pulled his hand out and cradled the alien in his palm. “You said you lost your friend near the Great Bridge, right? You’re sure this is the place?” he asked.

Olimar glanced around and tapped his chin. “It looks like the place, minus the beast that separated us,” he remarked. “It was more than twice your size with asymmetrical horns and limbs! Jumped out from above the bridge to try and crush us! I’m still trying to think of a name for it…” He glanced up and noticed that Damien’s eyes had gone wide.

So Olimar had encountered the Cleric Beast, yet he seemed more excited than terrified. The way he babbled on about it’s connection to the scourge, hunting practices, hiding spot, etc. reinforced Damien’s earlier statement about him being adorable. Damien nodded absentmindedly in response to the Captain’s chattering, unaware of approaching footsteps.

“Evening, Damien. What have you got there?” a deep voice asked. Olimar snapped his attention to the source and felt his stomach plummet. Towering above them was another hunter, wearing a garb similar to the pale-faced giants. What concerned him the most was his staggering height. He made Damien look like a runt!

The younger hunter stared dumbly at Gascoigne, uttering no words of explanation or denial. Instead he held Olimar to his chest and sprung to his feet. Before Damien could bolt, a hand snagged the back of his coat. He struggled helplessly as Gascoigne pulled him into a one-armed embrace. “C’mon, lad, you should know better than to run from an old hunter.” He remarked with a chuckle.

“Now Gascoigne, we can talk this over rationally!” Damien cried, his squirming becoming weaker by the second. Olimar couldn’t help but whimper when Gascoigne grinned, revealing a few sharp teeth. He had requested to see Damien’s teeth earlier and determined that humans were omnivores, yet this fellow appeared to have fangs. Was he becoming one of those beasts?

“Of course we can. Just let me see him, and I’ll let you down.” Gascoigne said. Damien fell still, giving Olimar a mournful look before extending his occupied hand. With utmost care, the old hunter wrapped his fingers around the miniature Captain. Olimar bit back a cry as he was lifted closer to the imposing hunter.

Up close he was able to take in more of Gascoigne’s appearance. His hair and beard were grey and slightly unkempt, and creases in his face showed his age. His eyes were obscured by bandages, and he gave a gentle smile as if attempting to hide his fangs.

“You must be this Olimar I’ve heard so much about.” He murmured. Before Olimar could speak, a familiar head poked out from the hunter’s scarf.

“Louie! You’re okay!” he shouted. Louie wriggled out of Gascoigne’s scarf, jumping next to Olimar as the hunter opened up his hand. Father Gascoigne chuckled as he carefully lowered Damien to the ground and handed the two Hocotatians to him. Damien let out a deep breath, his lungs kicking him in protest.

Louie was as quiet as ever, completely oblivious to Olimar’s concerned questioning. He gazed up at the hunter, noticing how his eyes crinkled. His gaze wandered to Father Gascoigne, and he took a deep breath. “Why are you so big?!” he screamed.

Both hunters flinched in response. Before they could utter any words, an earsplitting shriek cut through the air. Silence followed, the air within the plaza taking on an eerie atmosphere. Gently passing Olimar and Louie back to Gascoigne, Damien cautiously crept closer to the bridge. A lone church giant, totting a bloodied wrecking ball, stomped to the edge of the plaza.

An enormous, hairy limb shot up from below, claws sinking into the giant. It gave an agonized moan and flailed about, unable to save itself from being dragged over the railing. The silence returned, only to be broken yet again by a great beast yanking itself up onto the plaza.

Olimar’s jaw hit the ground. The beast was somehow larger than he remembered, considering it dwarfed Gascoigne. Fresh blood dripped from it’s jaws, indicating the church giant’s fate. It turned in their direction and roared, though it sounded more like a scream of agony.

Damien charged at the approaching beast, leaving Gascoigne with his hands full. With little time to think, he placed both Hocotatians on the ground some feet away. “You run for cover. We’ll try and take down the Cleric.” He ordered. Olimar watched him run off, joining the young hunter in slicing at the horrid beast.

The Captain gasped as the Cleric Beast grabbed Gascoigne and slammed him against the ground. They couldn’t just stand by and watch! “What are we going to do, Louie? The landing site is too far for us to retrieve any Pikmin!” he cried. But Louie wasn’t listening, more interested in milling about a corpse. Olimar jogged up and realized what had caught his interest.

There were Pikmin sprouts growing within a patch of bloodied earth. The stems were a faded color, almost like a light lavender. Without hesitation, he grasped a sprout and pulled. The Pikmin that sprung out and stood before him had solid green eyes and what appeared to be a sort of membrane flowing from it’s arms. Yet what caught his eye was the curled proboscis that served as a mouth.

By the time he had finished inspecting it, Louie had plucked the rest of the sprouts. They nodded to each other and glanced at the beast, which was still fighting with little sign of weakening. Taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders, Olimar lead his coworker and new Pikmin to the nearby tree.

Damien let out a scream as claws swiped at his abdomen, leaving bloody gashes. He jabbed a blood vial into his thigh, allowing the wounds to close up almost instantly. The damned thing was relentless, barely slowing down despite the combined efforts of him and Father Gascoigne. Dodging another swipe, he cut into it’s legs with his Saw Cleaver. The beast fell to it’s knees and panted, allowing him to catch his breath.

The Cleric Beast reared up with a screech, a red and black aura surrounding it and repairing the damage to it’s limbs. Damien and Gascoigne braced themselves for it’s next move, only for the fiend to hiss and wildly shake it’s head. It gave yet another hideous shriek as it smacked it’s own face with a clawed hand. Damien tilted his head and squinted at it’s left eye. Wait…was that…?

Clinging to the matted fur for dear life, Olimar tossed Pikmin into the beast’s eye with careful precision. Interestingly, they were holding on well for the wild thrashing they were enduring. Perhaps they had adapted to fighting beasts, and the membrane was designed to stick to fur. Another buck nearly sent him flying, reminding him to save research for a more suitable time.

With little pests in it’s eye and blades slicing apart it’s limbs, the Cleric Beast could do little more than wail as it desperately swung at it’s assailants. It slammed it’s head into the ground, dislodging the parasites but missing the hunters. The beast hopped back to give itself room…landing on top of the abandoned wrecking ball. Suddenly on unstable ground, it toppled backwards, smashing the railing and banging it’s head on the cobblestones as it tumbled into the valley below.

Damien peered over the demolished railing, watching the beast disappear in a cloud of dust and a shower of blood. Ragged breathing hit his ears as a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. “Wonder how many Old Yharnam beasts it’ll take to gnaw through that thing.” Gascoigne remarked. Damien grimaced and glanced over his shoulder at the ground.

“You alright, Louie? Nothing broken?” Olimar asked. Louie gave him a weak smile and a thumbs up. The Captain smiled back, only to be swept up alongside his coworker and Pikmin by enormous, gloved hands.

“What were you thinking?! You could have been crushed, or worse!” Damien scolded. He frowned when his tiny acquaintances shrunk back, sighing and holding them to his chest. Father Gascoigne took in the scene before chuckling and ruffling Damien’s hair.

“Well, Viola’s going to come looking for me if I’m out any longer. You take care, lad.” He said. The hunter nodded and walked in the direction of Oedon Chapel, tucking the Hocotatians into his scarf and letting the Pikmin climb into his hat.

“Look, I don’t want to yell at you, but I don’t want to see you get killed out here. It’s unlikely that you’d have the luxury of returning from the grave like me.” He explained. He felt Olimar gently pat his neck, followed by a hum.

“A Cleric Beast and a new species of Pikmin that grows in places of death. What a day! Now I just have to take notes and name our new companions.” Olimar remarked. Damien rose an eyebrow as he carefully dug the two out of his scarf.

“Well, in some ways they remind me of coldblood flowers…how about that?” he suggested. Placing Olimar and Louie near the pipe, he took off his hat and let the Pikmin jump out with joyful squeals.

“Coldblood Pikmin…sounds good to me!” the captain answered, but Damien had already walked off. Of course, he had to get ready for another hunt. He turned to Louie, who only shrugged and began leading some of the Pikmin back to the landing site. Olimar stared off into the distance before following suit.


	4. Feeding Frenzy

A pale, hairy bug with a bulging stomach scuttled along the cobblestones. With a long tongue, it hungrily lapped up any blood spills it could sniff out. It noticed fresh blood and eagerly leapt in it’s direction, finding an odd creature with some walking plants. Seemed like easy prey, yet it was given no chance to attack before a large thumb smashed it in a spurt of blood.

“That wasn’t necessary of you.” Olimar said. He watched Damien scrape the remains of the pygmy bloodlicker off his thumb, the grimace on his face suggesting regret. The creature had been named after a beast of a far larger size that had antagonized them within an underground labyrinth. The encounter was what made him become more cautious with visceral attacks, which Olimar couldn’t help but be thankful for. It was a nightmare constantly washing blood off their space suits!

The pygmy bloodlicker was one of the new critters they had encountered. There were familiar foes such as sheargrubs and anode beetles, but a few had been twisted by the scourge. Bulborbs with fangs longer than his arm and covered in matted fur, wollywogs with withered skin covered in cysts that could only manage pitiful leaps…

Louie was scribbling down notes of his own, yet when Olimar peeked there wasn’t much to take in. “Inedible. Contains tainted meat and toxic blood” and other such phrases were present. He couldn’t help but be thankful that his companion wasn’t attempting any risky experiments in this city.

The Coldblood Pikmin were eagerly slurping up the blood spatter, causing their leaves to bloom into bright, sanguine flowers, once again reminding Damien of their namesake. The evening had been uneventful, the huntsmen and labyrinth keepers unable to match up to the Cleric Beast. Watching the Pikmin stumble about and curiously tap his fingers was entertaining for the moment, but even that was losing it’s charm. His focus was fading, but the hunter was swiftly snapped back to attention by a stake poking into his back and thrusting him into the air.

Olimar watched in horror as the church servant swung the hunter about before slamming him to the ground. Gasping and pushing himself to his feet, Damien hissed and shot the servant as it prepared another attack, plunging his hand into it’s chest and ripping out it’s innards. As the fiend collapsed, he let out a cry of anguish and fell to his knees. “Damien! Are you alright?!” Olimar cried. The hunter whimpered and lethargically turned to look at him.

“I…I’ll live. Just run along for now, g-give me a minute for the frenzy to wear off…” he said, gasping and grunting as he spoke. Before Olimar could respond, Louie grabbed his arm and pointed. The captain noticed a stream of blood dripping from the hunter’s ear. He shuddered and quietly whistled to the Pikmin before walking along the small path.

“I wonder what that frenzy thing was.” Louie murmured, sticking close to Olimar’s side. Olimar didn’t answer, allowing him to think more on the matter. Blood had gushed from his head when the servant used it’s stake, and there was the wild, confused look in his eye that could be observed even from afar. It was as if he had seen something unspeakable, or suddenly knew something he wasn’t supposed to. Just when Louie was certain he’d come up with something, he stepped in a puddle of mutilated flesh.

His co-worker’s shrill cry snapped Olimar back to reality. Looking around the area, he realized that there were multiple creatures of varying species lying on the ground, each with gashes torn in them and most of their organs missing. Steeling himself, he comfortingly patted Louie’s shoulder and continued onwards. A streak of blood painted a trail from the gory scene into a crack in a wall.

Cautiously passing through, Olimar spotted what had killed all those critters. A dead human was lying on the floor, and feasting on their wrist was a snagret. Olimar was no stranger to the bird-headed snakes, but this one was bloated beyond belief. It’s feathers and scales were black, but he couldn’t tell if that was the natural coloration or if it was from being caked in grime and dried blood.

The snagret turned to them and shrieked, revealing blood and viscera stuck in it’s beak. As it wriggled about, Olimar could see that it was unable to burrow anymore, having to push itself along with it’s foot. Fresh blood was slathered over it’s belly, allowing it a bit more mobility.

The snagret snapped it’s beak, but the Hocotatians and Pikmin easily sidestepped the attack. Glancing back, Olimar took note of their Pikmin. Twenty yellow, rock, and coldblood each. Sixty was more than enough to take care of the feathered fiend. Tossing coldblood Pikmin at it’s head, Olimar watched the snagret squawk and flail. After being smacked at for a good while, which dislodged some of it’s filthy feathers, it slammed it’s chin against the ground.

With the force finally knocking the Pikmin away, the snagret rolled around in a puddle of blood that had accumulated near the body. It’s scales turned from dark to a slick crimson, and it began sliding about more easily. Stumbling away from the horrid creature, Olimar slipped on the blood trail and accidentally took a few yellows with him. They began gagging and shuddering, choking on the putrid fluid.

Louie swiftly whistled to the afflicted Pikmin. Fortunately, they recovered as quickly as they would from being set on fire or poisoned. The snagret snatched up a few rock Pikmin in it’s beak and swallowed them, a few tiny ghosts emerging from it’s mouth. Louie cried out and threw some more rock Pikmin at it’s chin, causing it to shriek in pain. Unfortunately, they slid right off and into the bloody streak.

Whistling again, Olimar tossed more coldblood Pikmin at the monster, only to find that ten were missing. He turned and found them drinking up the blood trail, even braving a few sips at it’s scales. The horrid creature hissed and raised it’s head, but enough feathers had been dislodged for a few high-flying yellow Pikmin to hold on and beat away at it’s skull.

The small yet painful smacks had become too much for the snagret by that point. It bucked it’s attackers off with one last agonized caw, retching and spitting up a fair amount of partially digested flesh, a dulled silver band rolling out of it’s throat soon after. Only moments later, the wretched serpent was coiled up dead on the wooden, blood-soaked floor.

Already a few yellow Pikmin were carrying the body away by the head, while some rocks picked up the silver band. Louie had run off, only to return to Olimar’s side with five new coldblood Pikmin. It took him only a second to guess where they had come from.

Traveling back up the road, the Hocotatians found their enormous companion back on his feet and watching the Pikmin trek by. He turned his gaze to them and gave a warm smile that was sadly obscured by his mask.

“Seems like I missed quite a bit!” Damien remarked, reaching down to playfully tap Olimar’s helmet light. The captain could barely believe this was the same hunter he’d seen sobbing on the cold ground, clinging to life. Louie hid behind him and peeked up at the giant, who chuckled and shifted his hand to try and tickle his side. When Louie cowered further away, Damien shrugged and carefully scooped them up in his hands.

The journey back to the landing site’s path was mercifully peaceful, with any afflicted bulborbs that set their sights upon the Pikmin running in fear from the hunter’s boots. “You saw the treasure we found in the carrion snagret’s gut, right? It’s slightly damaged, but we can still get some pokos out of it! It could be a machine part, or some reinforced wheel…oh, maybe it’s a sports champion’s belt!” Olimar exclaimed.

Or it could just be a ring, Damien thought to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to tarnish Olimar’s enthusiasm, the small bit of joy he brought brightening his mood. With the Pikmin making their way up the pipe with their prizes, the hunter placed his little charges on the ground. As they left for base, he sat down and stared up at the sky.

It was going to be a relatively calm night by the looks of it, frenzy incident notwithstanding. And now there were snake with bird heads roaming about, which didn’t seem to be too much of a threat…unless you’re an inch tall. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised by how well Olimar had taken the encounters with the church servants, Cleric Beast, and Father Gascoigne. Louie…well, he still needed some time.

Damien’s thoughts were interrupted by the tiny explorers clambering onto his glove. He drew his attention to them and raised his hand, accidentally knocking a few Pikmin away. “Hm? Sticking around for a little longer?” he asked. Olimar beamed and nodded, helping Louie climb up. The hunter chuckled and tucked them into his scarf, then scooped up the group of yellow and coldblood Pikmin and eased them into his coat pocket.

Making himself comfortable, Olimar watched the Pikmin being carefully put away. Not only was Damien’s scarf a bit too tight for two Hocotatians and over ten Pikmin, he also claimed that they tickled. At least they didn’t seem to mind his pockets.

Damien hummed to himself as he strolled down the stairs. The sky was turning a dark orange and cold air was nipping at his face, but he still had enough time to head back to the Dream and restock before anything else could attack him. At least that was the plan before someone slugged him in the back of the head.

Stumbling from the force of the blow, Damien barely had time to reorient himself before a lanky arm wrapped around his chest. A large hand clasped over his mouth to keep him from screaming. He tried to struggle, but the scent of rot combined with the pressure over his mouth made it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t long before his vision faded, and the last thing Damien felt was his limp body being unceremoniously dumped into a burlap sack.


	5. Shock and Ash

With aching limbs and labored breaths, Damien steadily awoke from his forced slumber. Moving was a struggle, and he could only faintly see through the burlap he was encased in. He had just been kidnapped. Stuffed into a bag and dragged off to god knows where.

As the hunter fully regained consciousness, he was slid out of the sack and onto a floor that was damp with blood and mold. An iron door slammed shut soon after, his abductor silently walking out of the room. Getting up to his feet, Damien took in his surroundings. He was in a prison cell in some stone building. Across the room was a dead body, but other than that there was no company to speak of. In the distance somewhere he could hear moans and ominous chants.

“Hello? Is anybody there?!” he called, but the only answer he received was his own echoes. That, and a light patting against his neck that drew his attention back to his little charges. How could he forget? Olimar and Louie must have been terrified! Then there was the possibility of accidentally crushing Pikmin when he landed…

“We thought you were gone…” Louie whimpered. Olimar nodded and hung his head, which was now light from trying to adjust to the sudden light and relatively fresh air. This was his fault. He had dragged Louie out for a bit more exploration, and now they had been taken to some unknown dungeon.

Damien took a deep breath and pushed open the cell door. Miraculously, the kidnapper had been too stupid to lock it. He walked out of the holding room and up a spiral staircase, eventually finding himself standing before an eerie statue. In front was a Messenger Lamp, a note, and a mummy wearing a cage on it’s head. He lit the lamp and picked up the note.

“Nightmarish rituals crave a newborn. Find one, and silence it’s harrowing cry.” He read. What did that mean? Before the hunter could digest the scripture, a grey-skinned hand snatched it away. Daring to raise his head, Damien found himself face-to-face with another furious kidnapper. It pulled it’s arm down, but the hunter jumped back the moment it swiped up to grab his throat.

Barreling down the stairs, Damien turned into a hallway in the middle of the staircase. He was stopped by two hunchbacked women, who grabbed his arms and pressed him against the wall. Olimar wrapped his arms around Louie as Damien screamed and thrashed, eventually breaking free and slicing the witches apart with his Saw Cleaver. He held tight and patted his whimpering co-worker on the back as the hunter charged through more monster-filled rooms.

Everything went still all of a sudden, and all the captain could hear was Louie’s sobs and Damien’s gasps. Once again they were pulled from the safety of his scarf, left sitting in his gloved hand. Olimar could see fresh bruises and cuts surrounding his eyes, thin streams of blood mixing in with tears. The women had tried to take his eyes. Guilt overflowed in his stomach as he shed tears of his own. “I’m so sorry, we should have returned to the atmosphere for the night. If only…” his weak babbling came to a sharp halt as a finger gently stroked his helmet.

“No. I should have been more careful. At the very least, I’m not alone in this ordeal.” Damien said. He shifted Louie to his other hand and gently held him against his masked cheek. “Shh, it’ll be alright, little one. Be still, I’ll keep you safe…” he crooned. Louie shuddered, yet couldn’t held but snuggle against the warmth of the hunter’s face.

The hunter reluctantly placed the Hocotatians onto the dirt. Carefully digging into his pockets, he placed a few handfuls of yellow and coldblood Pikmin beside them. They appeared shaken, but otherwise unharmed. He stood and looked down the path, finding that it lead down to an open field and large doors that likely lead back to town. He walked down the trail, cautiously peering beyond the gate.

“Something doesn’t seem right here…” Louie whispered. Olimar nodded in agreement. The wide open space reminded him of the countless arenas he’d encountered particularly large monsters in. As if to confirm his suspicions, a large pile of bones and hair that he hadn’t noticed before was consumed by a wave of electricity.

Damien backed away as the skeleton stood and roared, it’s fur crackling with bright sparks. It crept toward him with raspy snarls before pouncing. He rolled out of the way and slashed at it’s forelimb, drawing pained cries. He’d heard rumors of the electrified Darkbeasts, but he’d been hoping to actually be prepared for such an encounter.

“Stay here! He needs help!” Olimar shouted. Louie nodded and backed away from the gate with the coldblood Pikmin, watching Olimar lead the yellows into the fray. Paarl ignored them, for their blood would not nearly be enough to satisfy his hunger. Yet when the tiny creatures began grabbing onto his fur and beating away at his skull, it became harder to ignore.

Damien briefly pressed the back of his hand to his face before ducking under a swiping claw. “Can you please try to keep them where I won’t hit them?!” he shouted over the growls and hiss of electricity. Paarl shook the Pikmin off and lunged at the hunter, snapping his jaws on his arm. Damien hissed and pressed his pistol between the Darkbeast’s eyes, firing and causing him to release him.

The sparks dissipated from Paarl’s fur, causing him to crawl back with a pitiful whine. Damien took the opportunity to slice at him, further weakening the walking skeleton. Olimar assisted by throwing Pikmin at his spine, slowly but surely chipping away at the Darkbeast.

Paarl shook himself off and roared again, recharging his fur. Circling the hunter, he swiped his claws. Damien was thrown across the field, barely managing to roll away from the pouncing beast. Jabbing a blood vial into his leg, he jumped to his feet and rapidly shot the fiend. Shaking off the bullets, Paarl tromped forward and snapped his jaws at the hunter.

Thinking quickly, Damien rolled underneath the Darkbeast and slashed at his spine. Paarl shuddered as he collapsed, the sparks dissipating once again. The hunter stuck close as he relentlessly tore at the Darkbeast’s spine, while more little pests began beating around his eye sockets. Stumbling to his bony feet, Paarl scratched at his eyes and snapped at the grounded pests.

Olimar whistled and backed away from the skeletal fiend, realizing that it had finally become fed up with him. Paarl hissed and lunged for the captain, only to jerk back from a hot liquid splashing into his mane. The liquid ignited soon after, flames engulfing his dry fur and charring his bones. He stumbled away and screeched, collapsing as the hunter sliced at his skull.

As the beast staggered, Damien plunged his hand into a thin-looking spot between his eyes. Grimacing as he closed his hand around what remained of Paarl’s brain, he swiftly ripped it free. As the organ dissolved in his hand, Darkbeast Paarl gave one last dying shriek as his bones fell apart and turned to ash.

Letting his breathing slow, Damien glanced at the approaching Hocotatians. “Give me a damn heart attack, why don’t ya?” he asked. Olimar shrunk back, prompting Damien to sigh and gently pat his head with a fingertip. The hunter tucked the two away and eased the Pikmin into his coat, plucking up the Spark Hunter Badge a few of them had tried to carry away.

Pushing open the door with great effort, he was overcome by the strong scent of ash and beasts. The door lead to a narrow street that fed into a foggy square, where the hunter was immediately hounded by two scourge beasts. With his energy drained by Paarl, Damien chose to flee instead of combat the fiends. Unfortunately he soon tripped over a napping beast patient, alerting it’s brethren.

Heart pounding, Damien sprinted around the corner and clambered up a ladder, wincing at the claws that swiped at the bottom of his coat. Where the hell was he? All he knew was the place was filled with beasts and one ladder after another. Finally, the climb came to an end at the top of a platform where the wind whirled. He gasped and lightly patted his collar, thankful for the sudden safety.

“Well, well. How did you get in here?”

Damien’s attention shot to the man standing before him. His attire was painted with ash, a sturdy-looking Stake Driver held to his arm, and one pale blue eye glared down at him. It dawned on him that he was in Old Yharnam, now held at the mercy of it’s protector, Djura. The old hunter tilted his head and tapped his foot. “Oh, it’s no matter. What brings you to Old Yharnam?” he asked.

“I…I was kidnapped, taken to a terrifying underground prison…” Damien explained. Tears began to fall as Djura placed down his blunderbuss and knelt to his level.

“Yahar’gul, another secret the Church kept from us,” he muttered. “I thought you smelled a bit singed. You must have killed that Darkbeast and Cleric, then.” Djura lifted Damien’s chin to inspect the marks around his eyes, only for the hunter to whimper and pull away. “Come now, you act like I’m about to eat you!” he said, taking a blood vial from his pocket. Jabbing it into the young hunter’s arm, he let a smile form as the cuts faded away.

“There, that should let you get out of here. The beasts here do not venture above, and if you insist on hunting them, I will hunt you first. You understand me?” he asked. Without hesitation, Damien furiously nodded his head. Djura smiled and patted his shoulder. “Yes, very good. I no longer dream, but I was a hunter like yourself once. There is nothing more horrific than a hunt. Incase you’ve failed to realize…you’re hunting people, not beasts.” He explained, hesitation in his voice.

“Does that include the Cleric and Darkbeast?” Olimar whispered to his enormous companion. The hunter flinched and resisted the urge to hush him.

“Who said that?!” Djura asked. He rose an eyebrow at Damien’s wide eyes. Clearly that wasn’t his voice, it had been too…minuscule. His free hand tugged at the young hunter’s scarf.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-hey! That tickles!” Damien protested, giggling as Djura fished around in his scarf. He froze and fell silent upon feeling panicked struggles against his skin. Djura pulled Olimar out from his collar, dropping his jaw at the sight of the tiny captain.

Damien whimpered as he watched the retired hunter cradle the cowering Hocotatian in his hands. Despite the clear disbelief on Djura’s face, he took care handling Olimar, keeping a gentle grip and refraining from poking too hard. “Uh…you’re not hallucinating. They’re explorers, friends of mine.” Damien said. Djura raised an eyebrow before noticing a trembling Louie resting in the young hunter’s collar.

“Huh, wouldn’t expect them to last so long in this cesspool of a city,” Djura remarked. “Perhaps I misjudged you, kid.” Damien tipped his hat down over his eyes as he tentatively took Olimar back into his hand and scarf. “One day you will see. For now it’s time you got going…but first, a farewell gift.” He took the Powder Keg Hunter Badge from around his neck and handed it to Damien.

The hunter walked to the edge of the tower and looked out at the city. There were countless beasts milling about below, and the other hunter patrolling the plaza. The thought of running through that mess in his weakened state brought a sick feeling to his gut. Djura walked up to him and sighed. “Would you feel better if I escorted you there?” he asked.

Soon the two hunters were walking through what remained of the doomed town, Damien sticking close to avoid the possibility of being mauled. Meanwhile Olimar observed the beast patients. A number of them continued napping, only lazily turning towards them, while others glared and drooled with hunger in their eyes. Most kept their distance, but a rare few cautiously approached Djura. One got brave and licked his glove, receiving a pat on the head in response.

Eventually they approached the entrance to the city. Djura muttered something about having to replace the note. Damien gazed forlornly at the city, feeling the wind nip the skin around his eyes. Before he walked though the towering doors, he smiled at the retired hunter. “Thank you, Djura.” He said. Djura grinned in return and waved him off.

“You’ve got the whole night to dream! Make the best of it.” He said. Damien nodded and walked through the doors into a dark room. With a heavy sigh he knelt before the Messenger Lamp. Olimar and Louie squirmed uncomfortably against his neck, but he faded away before he could say anything.


	6. Claws of a Sinner

The Hunter’s Dream was a welcome sight after what the trio had been through in the Hypogean Gaol and Old Yharnam. Damien nearly tripped over his feet as he stumbled up to the Plain Doll, who gave him a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Good Hunter. What is it you desire?” she greeted. The exchange went as it usually did. Transferring of blood echoes, attempt and failure at small talk. Olimar couldn’t help but think about his interactions with the old Hocotate Ship. It had been loud and cocky, constantly insulting his flight skills and other such things. He was almost happy when it had been destroyed by that swamp beast. The Doll on the other hand was soft-spoken and seemingly naïve.

After exchanging farewell bows, Damien walked over to a patch of flowers. He carefully lied on his back and scooped the Pikmin from his pockets, placing them on his chest. Letting Olimar and Louie wriggle out of his scarf, he helped them climb onto his fingers and into the brim of his hat.

“I’ll let you go in a little while, just let me rest for a spell. Try to watch your step around here, alright?” he murmured. Louie shrunk back at those words, whipping his head around. Noticing how Damien had already begun snoring, Olimar comfortingly patted his co-worker’s shoulder.

“It’s perfectly safe here. He’s just afraid of Gehrman accidentally rolling over us.” He said. Louie tilted his head, only to glance up and bug out his eyes.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I’m not as clueless as one might think.” An old man’s voice remarked. Olimar flinched and snapped his attention to the source. Looming over them was the wheelchair-bound hunter he had seen in his last visit, peering down at them with tired eyes.

Gehrman chuckled as the tiny explorers panicked and attempted to hide in the hat’s brim. “There, there, I mean you no harm.” He said, lowering his hand to their level. He sat patiently, allowing them a minute to climb up on their own accord. Once Olimar had helped his friend clamber up and get settled in his warm palm, he raised it to his chest.

“Hmmm…last time I checked, beings from the cosmos are horrific, indescribable monstrosities. You make the Doll look threatening by comparison.” He said. Olimar rubbed the back of his helmet and shrugged.

“The beings of this world fit that description from my perspective. Even the Pikmin are still beyond a fair bit of my understanding.” He replied. Gehrman rose an eyebrow and glanced at the Pikmin. Some of them were napping on Damien’s chest, while others frolicked and played amongst the flowers.

“Hmm…well, at the very least you haven’t gotten our dear Damien killed,” he remarked, smiling down at the young hunter. “He’s a spry one, holds quite a bit of promise. So long as he doesn’t let the blood take hold.” Olimar gazed down at the sleeping hunter, who had taken to shifting about and softly mumbling.

“The blood? What do you mean by that?” the captain asked. Gehrman took a deep breath, lightly tapping Olimar’s helmet light.

“I have seen countless hunters be consumed by bloodlust, becoming slathering monsters indistinguishable from the beasts they hunt. As a matter of fact, most who aren’t swept away to the Hunter’s Nightmare end up transforming before long.” He explained. Olimar shuddered at the thought. Damien slowly losing his mind, possibly trying to eat them, growing horns, claws, fangs, and fur…

“Now, now, I’m not too worried about him succumbing to beasthood. Though I’m afraid the chances of the creatures of the hunt crushing his spirits are high.” Gehrman said. He shook his head and nudged Damien’s shoulder with his cane. “Speaking of, isn’t it about time to get back to the hunt?” he asked.

Damien wriggled about in the flower bed, sending a few Pikmin tumbling as he sat up. “C’mon son, the beasts won’t lay around just because you’re tired. Going to have to get back out there at some point.” He said. The young hunter shook his head and turned to Gehrman, shrinking back when he saw the two Hocotatians resting in his hand. “Oh, don’t you fret. I’m just getting acquainted with your little friends.” He assured.

The hunter reluctantly nodded, the lump in his throat refusing to budge. Gehrman smiled and placed the little ones on top of Damien’s hat as the Pikmin almost instinctively crawled into his pockets. Before Gehrman could speak again, Damien was already on his feet and running for the Yharnam Lamp. All the old hunter could do was grin and lean back in his wheelchair.

Olimar and Louie were not waiting in the usual spot the following evening. It was understandable, really. Olimar had mentioned being a treasure hunter, so of course they couldn’t stay in one area forever. Still, there was the underlying fear that he had scared them off. Perhaps the scuffle with Paarl had been too much and they no longer wanted any part in his hunts.

The fear was eased the next evening, and soon the pair were nestled into his scarf. Olimar excitedly rambled about the relics they had collected at the Frostbitten Citadel, but Damien was forced to interrupt his comment on the eerie sobs that plagued the area when a church giant collapsed before him. The hunter froze, only for his attention to be caught by a blood stone shard lying on the ground. Before he could reach for it, he was grabbed and pulled into a tight embrace.

“It’s good to see you again, lad!” Father Gascoigne exclaimed. Damien wriggled enough to look up at him, managing a grin behind his mask. The priest glanced at his collar and smiled at the little explorers. “And I see our friends are still kicking as well!” he remarked. Olimar gave a shy wave while Louie hunkered down just a bit.

“Aye, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Damien said with a chuckle. “So, what brings you to the Cathedral Ward?” Gascoigne’s smile faltered. He sighed as he placed the hunter down and ruffled his hair.

“Things have gotten a bit hairy in Central Yharnam, if you know what I mean. The mob strung up a nasty beast earlier, one with it’s skin flayed off it’s back,” Gascoigne explained. “I figured I could talk with Vicar Amelia, see if I could convince her to send down some church hunters.”

Damien’s blood ran cold at the mention of such a beast. The only one he had encountered like that was in Old Yharnam! If the horrid creatures were finding their way to the towns above…

His thoughts were interrupted by Olimar tapping his neck, drawing his attention back to Gascoigne. He had already ascended the staircase and was now fighting off two of the frenzy-inducing church servants. Damien ran to his aid and shot one of the servants as it attempted to slam it’s crucifix on him. He ripped away it’s innards, sending the fiend’s body tumbling down the stairs alongside it’s friend.

Pushing open the towering double doors, the hunters walked up the blood-soaked stairs of the Grand Cathedral. With each step a sickening dread pooled in Damien’s stomach. Perhaps it was the foreboding statues that bordered the staircase, or the eerie prayer he could hear from the chamber above. Still, they couldn’t turn back. Yharnam needed all the help it could get.

Kneeling before a great altar was a frail, robed woman, presumably Vicar Amelia. She did not acknowledge their presence, continuing her quiet rambles of “the frailty of men” and how “without fear, death would go unlamented”. The unease was stronger than ever, and the subtle trembles against his neck weren’t helping. With great care he pulled his little charges out and placed them near the stairs.

The Hocotatians and Pikmin tried to follow, but were stopped by Gascoigne gently pushing them back. “Ah, ah, ah, I think it’s for the best that you stay here.” He said. Olimar glared and crossed his arms, and even Louie gave an indignant huff.

“We handled the Cleric Beast just fine! Are you worried something nastier might be lurking here?” Olimar protested. Gascoigne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s put it this way. If whatever happens to fall from the ceiling doesn’t eat you, I will. How about that?” he suggested. Olimar shrunk back, a glimpse of the human’s unnatural fangs adding to his hopefully empty threat. Father Gascoigne smiled and carefully poked his helmet light before standing and following Damien. During that time Amelia had repeated her chant.

“Let us pray, let us wish, let us partake in communion…and feast…f-feast upon the old b-blood…” her voice trembled, panicked gasps spilling out. They were swiftly replaced by screams as she violently convulsed. Damien could only watch in horror as she grew with a splatter of blood, long white fur sprouting from her flesh and antlers popping from her skull. Her agonized cries were raspy and twisted, her vocal chords likely stretched beyond proper usage. Amelia turned to them, revealing her tattered robe stretched over her eyes and a muzzle filled with jagged teeth.

Damien was at a loss for words at the sight. He glanced at Gascoigne and found his jaw hanging open. They were finally broken from their daze when the beast roared and pounced. Grabbing Damien before he could react, she slammed him against the floor and snarled at his cries.

“Amelia, stop!” Gascoigne screamed, but she backhanded him across the room in response. Staggering to his feet, he weakly turned to the cleric beast lunging at him with open jaws. She would have devoured him whole if stinging glass and oil hadn’t splattered against the side of her head. Damien swiftly tossed a Molotov cocktail, igniting the fluid and eliciting an earsplitting shriek.

Charging under the swinging claws, the hunter sliced at Amelia’s legs. The Saw Cleaver’s teeth cut through her rough flesh, spilling fresh blood onto the tiles. She stumbled back, only for Gascoigne to violently slam his axe against her knees. Jumping to the side with a hiss, she held a gold pendant to her chest. A glow enveloped her and healed the burns covering her beastly muzzle.

“Not on my watch!” Damien hissed, shooting her in the nose. She fell back with a scream, yet quickly regained her bearings and slammed her fists against the ground. Both hunters barely dodged the resulting shockwave and were quickly knocked away by a swing of her arm.

Olimar couldn’t describe the helplessness he felt at the sight. He resisted the urge to charge into the fray, assuring himself that they knew what they were doing. Damien had returned to slicing apart Vicar Amelia’s twisted legs, while Gascoigne ducked under the wild swipes and beat away at her arms. His eyes wandered to Louie, finally noticing that he was gone.

“What are you doing?!” he shouted. Louie was directing a number of purple Pikmin to carry a large sword further into the chamber. They were nearly crushed by Damien falling back from another swipe. With a groan he turned to them and tilted his head.

A sword? Where had that come from? He picked up the blade, letting the Pikmin fall off, and contemplated it. It was sharpened to perfection, yet lacked the serrated teeth of a saw weapon. Which would he be better off with? Before he could decide, Amelia descended upon him and snatched him up in her jaws.

“NO!” Gascoigne cried, looking on in horror as the young hunter was swallowed. Only moments later a blade pierced through the beast’s throat, dragging through tender flesh. Amelia coughed and gagged, desperately grabbing at her throat as blood spilled from the gash and her mouth. But the damage was done, too late for her to heal again. She gave a gurgled screech as she collapsed, curling onto her side as if in prayer.

Father Gascoigne rushed up to the corpse, pulling apart what remained of her throat. A blood and saliva soaked glove popped out, the rest crawling from the gaping wound in the beast’s gullet. With weak knees and labored breaths Damien stood over his fallen prey. Gascoigne choked back a gag at the sight.

“You alright, son?” he asked. Damien managed a smile and nodded, stepping away from the body. Gascoigne grimaced at the tainted blood pooling from the gash. “We’re going to need a new Vicar…” he said. A tiny sound hit his ears, then. He tentatively approached the source, finding Olimar with his face buried in his hands and Louie sobbing. He bit his lip and cautiously reached for them.

“It’s my fault! I almost got Damien killed! If I hadn’t distracted him, Amelia wouldn’t have…have…” he squealed in terror as Father Gascoigne wrapped his fingers around him. Yet the human only held him against his warm neck, where Louie could hear his heart beating from below.

“Now, now, it’s not so bad. You might have gotten him eaten, risked leaving me to fight her alone, but she’s dead now. Kept the fight from dragging on too long!” he said. Louie wasn’t convinced, but it was enough to quiet his sniffles. Gascoigne placed him well away from the blood puddle and inspected a corner some purple Pikmin were gathering in. He dragged a large, bladed sheath from their insistent grasp.

“Besides, Ludwig’s Holy Blade is a solid weapon! It’s kept many church hunters from meeting a messy end.” He said. The priest walked past the fallen beast and up to Damien’s side to hand the sheath to him. Damien strapped it to his back before stepping up to the altar Vicar Amelia had been praying before. Resting upon it was a misshapen skull, appearing to be a hybrid between that of a human and beast.

Damien raised a trembling hand towards the skull, transfixed by the weak aura that dwelled within it. His mind was thrust into darkness before a vision presented itself. Yet to Gascoigne, Olimar, and Louie it looked as if he had frozen in place. A minute had barely passed before he yanked his hand away with a gasp.  
“Fear the Old Blood.” He said. Gascoigne tilted his head as Damien swiftly gathered up the tiny explorers and Pikmin.

“Come again?” he asked.

“Fear the Old Blood, the Vicar’s adage! Supposedly it’s the password to access the Forbidden Woods.” Damien answered. “I’ll see you later, Gascoigne. Thanks for the help back there.” The hunter swiftly ran out of the Grand Cathedral and into the cold night.

Father Gascoigne smiled and nodded, assuring himself that Damien wouldn’t get himself into too much trouble in the Woods. Worst case scenario he’d need to rely on Henryk, assuming he’d be hunting down there. The priest turned his attention to the Vicar’s body. By now the cathedral floor was almost completely drenched in cleric beast blood. The smell was foul, yet so sweet, so marvelous, enough to make a man sick. Drool spilled from his lips as he crouched down. Surely a taste couldn’t hurt…

No. Gascoigne leapt to his feet and shot the beast’s muzzle, as if she had come back just to entice him. Fear the Old Blood…it sounded so familiar, yet so foreign. Could those simple words have kept Yharnam from falling into this madness? Why would Amelia pray to what had ultimately destroyed her? Did she even know what was happening until now?

The hunter shook his head and stepped away from the foul monstrosity. This was too much for one night, too much for one week. He needed to return home to his wife, his children. Gascoigne thought back to the previous nights, one where he had nearly let himself succumb to the scourge. He would not let such a thing happen.


	7. The Great Bulblax Hunt

The Sinister Wilds-or Forbidden Woods to the humans-was not unknown territory to Olimar. While he was used to the secluded parts that were apparently untouched by the scourge, it was nice to be somewhere familiar. It almost reminded him of simpler times, before he ventured into Yharnam itself and met Damien.

The outer woods were teeming with Afflicted Bulborbs, Diseased Wollywogs, and the occasional Bloody Blowhog. Besides this were familiar, yet still deadly, creatures such as Creeping Chrysanthemums, but it was mostly the former three. The Afflicted Bulborbs proved to be the nastiest, with gnashing teeth, thick fur, and increased aggression. As a matter of fact, they’d encountered one feasting upon a Red Bulborb that had yet to be infected.

Olimar and Louie ducked into a wooden structure, the Pikmin following close behind. Mercifully there weren’t any monsters, but there was no treasure in sight either. A dead body, some Coldblood sprouts, lanterns that were too big to carry, and…

“What’s this?” a booming voice asked. Olimar’s attention snapped to a human towering over them. On his head was an iron bucket, while the rest of his garb was reminiscent of a police officer’s uniform. He knelt and removed the bucket, revealing himself to be a rather handsome man with long blond hair and a nasty scar where his right eye should have been.

“I’ve seen those creatures before, but miniature humans? At the very least you don’t look like vermin…” he said. The human leaned in and squinted, as if trying to get a better look at them. Louie shrunk back, yet Olimar held his ground.

“I am Olimar, captain of the S. S. Dolphin. We are merely exploring these woods and mean you no harm.” He said, head held high. The human did not look impressed. He merely shrugged and returned to his corner, muttering something about finally going mad. Olimar let his shoulders slump. Well, that wasn’t as exciting as he’d hoped. Still, it probably wasn’t the best idea to search for danger here without Damien.

At that moment the grinding of chains sounded nearby. The officer placed his bucket over his head and stood up straight, tightly gripping his cane. Damien stepped into the decrepit windmill, his garb and blade soaked in blood. He stood before the officer and tilted his head.

“Ah, a new face! And an accomplished hunter, it would appear,” the officer said, chuckling at the odd look Damien gave him. “I am Valtr, master of the League.” Valtr went on to explain the League’s purpose, crushing vermin and cleansing the streets of defiled scum. Olimar winced at the fury in his voice, delving into a growl whenever he mentioned vermin. He couldn’t help but notice Louie shudder as their hunter agreed to join the League.

“Hm? I can’t believe I didn’t see you there!” Damien said, immediately catching their attention. Without warning the Hocotatians were swept into his hands and held against his chest. Valtr balked at the sight.

“Wait, you can see them? I haven’t completely lost it?” he asked. The hunter chuckled as he carefully slipped the two into his warm scarf.

“Oh, don’t worry. They’ve been traveling with me for a few nights now.” Damien replied. As he walked back to the lift, Valtr sighed and shook his head. At least the hunter didn’t seem to be going mad in any way. If the worst happened, Henryk could easily take him.

Heading deeper into the Forbidden Woods, Damien found himself surrounded by snakes. Yharnamites with snakes popping out of their necks, hissing, tangled balls, and towering serpents that spat burning venom. Damien recalled the bird-headed snake the Pikmin had killed and shuddered. He prayed to whichever kind and merciful god was listening that those monstrosities stayed small.

Turning the corner, Damien spotted a yellow garb sticking out like a sore thumb among the dark trees. A fellow hunter was slicing apart a snake parasite, expertly dodging it’s twisting, snapping heads. As the monstrosity collapsed, he approached the hunter and placed a hand on his shoulder. Before he could speak he was kicked in the gut and pinned to the ground, staring down the barrel of a pistol.

“Are you dense?! On a night like this I took you for a beast!” the yellow-clad hunter scolded. Damien couldn’t answer, the shock leaving him breathless. The man pulled his gun away and knelt down. “Say, you’re Gascoigne’s kid, aren’t ya? The one who helped him kill the Cleric Beast?” he asked.

“Uh, yes. My name is Damien.” Damien said, grunting as he pushed himself to his feet. God, his stomach was sore. How much force had been in that strike? A whine escaped one of his charges, prompting the old hunter to lean in and take a peek at his scarf. Staring for a solid minute, he stepped away and let out a deep exhale.

“And apparently he wasn’t joking about tiny people.” He said. Damien rubbed the back of his neck with a forced chuckle. He should’ve known Gascoigne would bring up that bit. He was surprised the priest hadn’t just been written off as mad.

“Bit hard to believe, I know. Just a few minutes ago Valtr thought he was going insane!” he remarked. Henryk’s eyebrows furrowed as he stroked his chin.

“So you’re a new recruit? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind an entrance exam, then,” he said. “There’s a particularly nasty beast running about, likely carrying a vermin. I’m going to need your help taking it down.” Damien gave a firm nod, as expected, yet a sense of dread formed within Olimar’s system. Could he or Louie handle another one of those monstrosities?

“Er, Damien? Do you mind if we sit this one out? We know the area well enough.” Olimar asked. Damien let out a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. The captain couldn’t blame him, considering how many of the previous nights were plagued with Cleric Beasts.

“Well…alright. Just be careful out there.” He said. The hunter plucked Olimar and Louie from his scarf with utmost care and placed them on the ground. The Pikmin hopped out immediately after, all standing at attention by their leaders. As they ducked into the undergrowth, he could almost feel Henryk’s gaze piercing through him…

Deeper within the woods a few red bulborbs were milling about, seeming more interested in lapping the cursed blood from huntsman corpses strewn about than attacking measly Pikmin. Already they were sprouting hair and growing fangs. Olimar gulped and cautiously lead his troops around the drunk bugs, not planning to deal with so many at once.

At that moment the bulborbs all rose their snouts into the air. Olimar and Louie froze. They braced themselves for the beasts to charge, only for them to shriek and rush into the bushes and burrows. Louie tilted his head, noting how the Pikmin huddled together and whimpered. The tension lingered until the ground began to shake.

An enormous creature resembling a fiery bulblax stomped into view. It was covered in thick fur, had a mouth full of jagged teeth, and curved horns protruding from it’s head. The beast panted and sniffed around, it’s gaze landing on a tangle of snakes.

The bulblax lunged and snapped up the snake ball. Ignoring the sting of it’s venomous fangs, it snapped up the serpents with ease, teeth ripping them to pieces. As bits of snake fell from it’s jaws, it turned it’s gaze down to the captains and Pikmin. Realizing they were the only other prey in sight, Olimar whistled and charged in the opposite direction.

With a roar the beast lowered it’s head and charged. More creatures and snakes ducked for cover as it’s stomps shook the ground. Heart pounding, Olimar didn’t dare look back at the advancing monster. Already it’s sweltering breath engulfed them as it closed in. Just as the bulblax lunged, Olimar spotted a small opening in a nearby tree. Grabbing Louie’s arm, he dove into the tree, the Pikmin following suit as the bulblax slammed face-first into ground.

A thud in the distance alerted Damien to the beast’s whereabouts. Tapping Henryk on the shoulder, he silently crept down the side path. In the distance he could spot the beast slamming it’s snout against a tree, letting out infuriated growls. Henryk held his finger to his lips as he slunk forward with nary a sound. While the beast was distracted, he readied his saw cleaver and slammed it into it’s rear. It yelped as he plunged a hand into it’s back, violently ripping out a chunk of flesh.

The bulblax swung it’s head to the side, striking Henryk with it’s horn. He fell back with a grunt, pushing himself to his feet as it opened it’s jaws. Damien stabbed it before it could bite down on the old hunter, drawing a screech as it stumbled away and fled into the woods.

“Heh, not bad, kid,” Henryk said. “Can’t let that thing get too far though.” Damien nodded and helped him up. Hearing distressed squeaks, he glanced down at the tree’s exposed roots. Olimar and Louie crept out from the hollow, a group of shaken Pikmin following close behind. He shook his head and placed a hand on his hip.  
“I swear, you run off for five minutes and get into trouble every time.” He said, lightly chuckling. Olimar blushed and rubbed the back of his helmet. As two hunters ran off, he and Louie followed close behind, taking care to avoid their boots. Turning the corner, they spotted the beast ambling up a small hill.

The bulblax was biting into an enormous pig, drawing earsplitting squeals from the bloated creature. The beast merely chomped through the struggles and shrieks, oblivious to the hunters creeping up behind it. Once more a well timed backstab lead to more of it’s skin being ripped away. Letting the half-eaten pig fall to the side, it snarled and lowered it’s head to charge. Without a moment to spare, Henryk hurled a throwing knife at it’s bulging eye. The eye popped, drawing an agonized roar that allowed him to throw another one into it’s mouth while Damien hacked at it’s chin.

With a final screech, the Bulblax hacked up a wad of undigested hair before collapsing. A centipede-like creature squirmed out from the mass, writhing and hissing on the ground. Damien grimaced as he stomped down on it, grinding the toe of his boot into the dirt for good measure. Olimar jumped at the sight, instantly reminded of how easily the hunter could crush him.

“And there’s your first vermin! Now you can truly be called a Confederate of the League.” Henryk said. Glancing at the wad of soaked hair, he reached in and pulled out a tiny scrap of flesh. “Looks to be the remains of some blood-drunk hunter. Poor bastard.” He muttered. Damien took the scrap and looked it over. It held an eye, the pupil sunken and mushy. Might be useful later, the thought, slipping it into his pocket.

“So if this creature is a plagued Fiery Bulblax, far bigger than the Afflicted Bulborbs, then the scourge must intensify with rank!” Olimar exclaimed. Henryk tilted his head as Damien scooped up the miniature explorers. “You see, grub dogs run on a hierarchy, with the Empress and Emperor Bulblax at the top. While there are plenty of low ranking Bulborbs being infected, it’s not even close to the extent of this higher ranked Bulblax.” He explained.

“If that’s the case, I’d hate to see what an Emperor looks like,” Henryk said. “But now that the beast is dead, how about we report back to Valtr?” Damien beamed and nodded his head as he gathered up the Pikmin and explorers. Olimar and Louie couldn’t help but snuggle against the hunter’s unbelievably warm neck. As the captain settled in, ready for a quick nap, he briefly gave thought to exploring other areas that weren’t as plagued with beasts.


End file.
